Rows upon rows of toys, games, and wondrous things to fill the lists written to that jolly man up north. Peanuts and candy to fill those stockings hanging in the hall. Christmas music playing in the background. Laughter and cheer everywhere. It may seem that I am describing the local box store, but I am not. Instead, it was a place to help a woman with no way to provide her beautiful children with a Merry Christmas. I had never found myself in this predicament before, never though it could happen to me. But it had.
This was a place of love and giving. A place with people who knew the real spirit of the season. Everything on the shelves were donations from people I wouldn’t know even if I ran into them on the street. Yet these strangers brought joy to a mother that had spent many nights crying herself to sleep wondering what she was going to do. As I walked around the room I could choose what I thought my children would love to find under our tree Christmas morning. It may not be exactly what they wanted, but it would be something special for my beautiful children. I was treated with the utmost respect that day, something never to be forgotten. Nor the lesson that day taught me.
Growing up, my father and mother often repeated the proverb, “I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.” We were taught to be grateful for what we had, not bemoan what we didn’t have. They taught their daughters well. My parents did everything they could to make sure we had a holiday full of wonder. We knew later, as we grew up, that many times our mom and dad had gone without to make sure we knew the special magic of Christmas.
One of the greatest examples of my parents caring for others before themselves came when I was young. I watched my father remove the most wanted toys of the year from the shelf of their hardware store. He carefully placed them in a huge box to be donated to children that otherwise would go without a present that year. I asked him once why he didn’t just give the toys that hadn’t sold the year before, wouldn’t that be cheaper? He explained to me that this may be the only toy a child would get that Christmas and didn’t I think they should get a special one? This from a man that had gone without many Christmas’ of his own childhood.
And now on that day, I found myself on the other end of the giving. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling for a stubborn, prideful woman. But what I thought would be a humiliating day was instead a wonderful day that filled my heart with joy. Every day I try to count my blessings and try to be grateful for what I have and not worry about what I don’t have. It’s not always easy. And every holiday season, I again am reminded of those wonderful people that give of themselves every day of the year. Just like my mother and father did. This year may you feel the joy and magic of the season in your heart.
Published in Bottom Line News & Views